


Deluge

by xByDefault



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Accidental Plot, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Robbie is an idiot who pulls a creep, Sportacus has no sense of self-preservation but that's nothing new, bedsharing trope, he also doth protest too much methinks, honestly he's forgiven the villain for worse, sharing shelter during storm trope, unapologetic smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 03:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17614565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xByDefault/pseuds/xByDefault
Summary: Long Answer:Rain reaches biblical proportions and Robbie is lucky that he doesn't get a black eye and instead receive more than he asked for, mostly because elves are surprisingly sexual and this one happens to like him... Despite everything.Short Answer:Two idiots bang in a barn.





	Deluge

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to indulge in a cliché trope and it ran away with me and it got lost somewhere in the middle. Enjoy.

* * *

Just his luck. A bad day in general this was; _first_ , his ploy had been foiled when the darn tractor had broken down, with _something_ that looked suspiciously like what had once been a ball stuck behind one of the wheels, and the inevitable unmasking that followed. Dragged the thing out to the erected faux barn for said earlier failed scheme all on his own, not that he’d asked for assistance, especially after he’d personally tried to sabotage for everyone else. Then, being stuck in the rickety place thanks to a heavy downpour no sane person would be caught out in. _And then_ , having to share the space with the heroic annoying goody two shoes himself proving his earlier statement true, being told by said annoyance that it would, if not get worse, not let up anytime soon.

On the other hand, it didn’t seem like it was such a great day for the hero either. The shivering drenched man before him had looked like misery itself with equal sad moustache. It had been entertaining for a moment, especially that spectacular flop onto his back when he’d lost grip on the stupid ladder -until it turned into pity this up close.

 

* * *

 

“They say the storm will hit us late in the evening, but you never know,” Milford said from behind him as Sportacus secured the last sandbag into place. He hummed in agreement, he could already feel the shift in the air, promising more than just rain in his experience.

“There, this should help,” he said and straightened up to wipe off his hands, feeling pretty pleased with his work. The town was elevated from the fields surrounding it and the foundation was generally sound. The Lazytowners should be fine. Sportacus had helped secure the few places that could possibly run risk of flooding. Still… “Anything else I can help with?”

“No, this should do. Thank you,” he assured him. “Most households have supplies and have prepared accordingly, Ms. Busybody is quite good at getting the word out.”

He merely nodded, that she was.

“Everyone is as ready and informed as they can be. Well, almost everyone.”

“Oh?”

“Mr. Rotten,” he supplied. “Stephanie even went knocking on his door… Err, hatch, when he wouldn’t pick up his phone, but no response there either. Oh well, no need to worry. He’s quite self-reliant. He might have relocated until it’s over.”

A sheer hopeful thought.

Last time Sportacus had seen of the villain had been earlier that very day, pushing and pulling his busted tractor back to wherever he’d gotten it from after another foiled plan of his. A dark gloomy look on his face now devoid of the faux beard and Sportacus might’ve offered help, despite being reason why it had broken down, had he not already known that it would be thrown back in his face like so many times before. Not long after the Mayor of LazyTown had come running to warn them in person of the forecast he’d received, and they’d all been working on preparing the town for the incoming foul weather since then.

“As long as everyone stays inside,” Sportacus said, “they should be fine.” Robbie included, he hoped. His home was after all _underground_.

“And you then?” the rotund man asked.

“Huh?”

“What about your ship?” Milford gestured up to the sky. “You’re in the clouds, quite literally,” he pointed out.

His mouth tugged into a half-smile, appreciating the concern, and he replied, “it’s been through worse. It will be alright”

 

The airship would be alright. And so would its pilot, if they actually were inside to man it, that was.

The clouds had rolled in like a compact wall and not soon after had the smattering of rain droplets hitting the envelope turned into a veil of running water over the windows at the front of his quarters in the gondola when his worries came to be. “Someone’s in trouble,” he said to himself and stopped mid-push up, the casing of his crystal making a chirping noise and flashing. 

He would have to be quick then, he reasoned, before it got worse. A thought if it might be Robbie crossed his mind. It was somewhere from the outskirts of town, not too far off from the man’s earlier shenanigans had taken place, but the feel of the opaque stone gave him mixed signals.

 

It was the kitten.

Well, not a kitten anymore, but a full-grown cat now. Five times the size from when he’d first had to rescue it, and still just as prone to getting into sticky situations it would seem.

This time however, the reception to its rescue wasn’t that well received. Locating the source of distress, he’d found the drenched upset cat hanging on for dear life from a branch that had given way under its weight as it had tried to get away from the rising water of the stream below, now hanging just above the water. He’d stopped question how it got into these situations a long time ago.

“Hang in there, I got you,” he said to the upset animal as he tried to reach for it. He could jump and bring it with him to the other side. Easy.

The muddy edge gave after under the smooth soles of his boots, good for running, not for grip under slick slippery foundation, and they both went down. Sportacus effectively found himself waist-high in cold water and armful of angry feline.

The cat tried to wrangle itself free, hissing and growling, scared from the handling and had it not been for his bracers he would’ve been scratched up, well, worse than he got, when he opened his arms and let it leap onto the solid ground by the edge to dart away. Its tail disappearing into the dark woodwork was the last he saw of it.

That could have gone better.

Oh well, it would hopefully find some shelter where it could dry and keep safe. He knew he himself would, he was in need of another set of clothes and to clean up the scratches.

Sportacus climbed up onto solid ground as well, wary of the stones and slope, minding his steps, each _squelching_ step, and grimaced at the feeling of his waterlogged footwear, back to the open field under which his ship was hovering. The downpour was rapidly getting worse, he’d overestimated the amount of time he’d had, and the outline of the ship was now a vague blur.

“Ladder!”

It seemed that the ground was not the only thing not working in his favour and he cursed himself for simply not landing the ship in the first place.

The wet rungs made it hard to get a secure grip and he felt his already treacherous smooth soles covered in mud slipping on the slick rounded surface of the rungs every step. Probably making him look like an erratic puppet each and every time, if someone was to witness the display. Not good.

He weighted in his options. It was cheating, but on the other, feeling the cold setting in, spending more time than necessary out in the miserable weather was doing no one any good.

“Up!” he demanded the ship to pull it in.

The rung slipped from under him as well his grip from the upwards jolt and he yelped in surprise.

His back hit the ground with a wet ‘ _thwack_ ’, the impact was enough to force the air out of his lungs and he watched the rope ladder disappear out of sight. He grimaced as he felt water seep in through his back by his collar this time and sat up.

Last time he was going for the easy route, better to have tried climbing. He thanked his luck that he hadn’t gotten that far up into the air when he lost his grip, that could’ve been a long drop otherwise.

“ _That was beautiful!_ ”

Laughter? He could swear that he heard something over the noise of the rain. He got up onto his feet.

“ _Encore! Encore! Please, do that again!_ ” Somewhere in the distance to his right.

“Robbie?” he said out loud and turned to where he could hear the man’s voice coming from and shielded his eyes, trying to peer through the downpour.

There, by the opening of one of… A barn? Nearly folded over himself with his hands on his knees and laughing himself to tears.

Any port…

The grin fell from Robbie’s face when he saw him run over. “No, don’t come here!” he objected. “Ah, too late.” And hung his head when he was close enough.

The tractor was within view behind him he spotted before he plastered himself next to the door under the outcrop of the tin roof. So, that’s where he’d kept the thing. He couldn’t recall that he’d seen this building before. The man did however like to go all in on his schemes. A temporary addition, like the pyramid that had turned up overnight, only to disappear as mysteriously as it had appeared.

“Hey, Robbie, can I come inside?”

“No, no, away with you! Go home, try climbing again! Never give up, or whatever you always say! _Go! Away!_ ” he exclaimed in rapid fire and pulled the handle of the door closer to obstruct the opening with his body.

“Can I please come inside?” he asked again.

“Go into town, I’m sure _someone_ will be more than happy to house you.”

“Robbie, _please_.”

He pursed his mouth, seeming to weight it over.

Sportacus shuddered and tried to flatten himself against the wall under the protruding roof, away from the onslaught.

Robbie appeared to have made up his mind. “Fine, alright then,” he spat and threw his hands up before he turned on his heel to go inside.

“Thank you,” he said and ducked in after him.

“Whatever.”

He was absolutely drenched through and through. Next time he resupplied, he’d invest in a rain coat. Hindsight was twenty-twenty, he supposed. A lesson learnt for next time.

He took it upon himself to close and secure the doors behind to keep the water out. Awkward silence as Robbie settled to glower at him, as silent as it could get from the heavy rain anyway hitting the thin rolled tin-plates overhead.

“Thanks,” Sportacus repeated.

Robbie scrunched up his face like Sportacus had offended him before he smoothed it down into something closer to nonchalance and he waved it off when he finally spoke again. “Yes, yes, I figure you will be out there again the moment _that_ thing,” he said and pointed to Sportacus’ chest, his crystal, “goes _bippedy bippedy_.”

It was true. And the reason why he’d left his airship in the first place.

Robbie continued unprompted, “I’ve seen you save bees and flies. _Flies!_ You’ll be out saving worms from drowning within the hour.”

Sportacus pressed his lips into a thin line. Not denying or affirming. If it came to his attention that he was needed somewhere, he would go.

It only seemed to amuse the other. “What miserable critter brought you out here in the first place?”

“A… A cat.”

Robbie laughed, his point proven. “Let me guess, that black and white one?”

“Yes. He wouldn’t let me take him somewhere safer, though.” He hoped that it had found a dry spot by now, and that any other creature out there had.

“Yeah, no surprise. That thing has gone feral. Not enough human contact, I guess.”

‘ _Like someone else,_ ’ he thought. Sportacus thought better of saying it out loud, though. “What are _you_ doing out here?” he asked instead.

“I was trying to wedge that soccer ball out from under the wheel-well that _you_ jammed in there when this offense started and… And it’s none of your business.”

So, he hadn’t known of the forecast and had been unprepared, enough to be caught out there as well. The mixed signal he’d felt of the crystal made more sense. Trouble for two. One, not in physical trouble, but emotionally distressed. “If you’re to wait it out, you might be here the whole night, it’s going to be quite bad.”

“It’s going to get worse?” he asked. “Great. _Fantastic_ ,” he groaned and dragged his hands over his face. “I’m stuck.” As in afterthought, he added, “ _with_ _you_.”

Maybe he should’ve taken the advice to head into town after all. Or, make a second attempt with the rope ladder. He _could_ always remove his shoes and give it another go. “They’ve tried to reach you to tell you.”

“Well, isn’t that awfully nice of them,” he grumbled.

“It _was_ ,” he stated.

Robbie made that disgruntled face again and turned his back on him.

He, in turn, took the opportunity to take in his surroundings. The building material looked worn, but there was an unmistakable smell of fresh timbre. A working bench in the far back where Robbie had drifted to, to mutter and which even Sportacus had a hard time hearing over the loud noise of water hitting the tin roof. The tractor taking up most of the floorspace with one wheel removed, he hadn’t meant to cause that much damage, but he hadn’t been left with much choice, it was either that or let Robbie get away with misbehaviour. How Robbie’s disguise had exactly played into the scheme was beyond him, seeing the pile of coveralls and plaid, a purple trucker cap resting on top of it. Over them was a half-loft, which contents out of sight eluded him, and an attached ladder. No windows and the single source of light supplied by one lone lamp. For a temporary production, he’d made it appear very authentic.

Sportacus pinched and drew out the water out of his moustache, feeling it bounce up to something closer to its usual shape, and then rubbed his arms trying to suppress a shiver. It wasn’t that warm per se in there but in comparison to the foul weather outside, it was a vast improvement and he was usually not that bothered by the cold, but these wet clinging clothes would not help him if he was to warm up.

He glanced over to the villain, still muttering, and very unhappy over his presence, before he unclasped the fastenings hidden under the crystal’s casing of his vest.

Robbie cried out when he turned to him again and saw what Sportacus was up to, “what are you doing?!”

His vest was already down past his shoulders when he paused and declared the obvious, “my clothes are wet and cold.”

“Well, yes, but you can’t just start stripping like that!”

It was his turn to frown. “If I get to wring them out, they’ll dry faster.” Not that he was looking forward to putting them back on again.

Robbie made an indignant noise, however not objecting further, and Sportacus continued, squeezing out whatever water he could before he put it away on the hood of the tractor, minding the casing of the crystal and aware now that the other was staring, supressing a different type of shiver as he removed his goggles. Wrong time and wrong place.

Thumbs already under the rim of his hat, he hesitated.

“You have pointy ears. I _know_ ,” Robbie said.

He let that titbit sink in. All things considered, he shouldn’t be that surprised that he knew. Steeling himself, he pulled it off. Glad to remove the damp hat and combed back his hair with his hand, sighing.

“Huh,” the man noised and knit his brow.

“What?” Suddenly feeling self-conscious. Knowing was one thing, seeing, another.

“I thought your hair would be darker.”

He blinked. He didn’t know what to say in response to that.

Next to go was the bracers, he’d gotten them both off when Robbie made another sound, this one of alarm and he looked up to see what the matter was this time. 

His eyes had gone wide. “Oh sh-” he bit off what Sportacus guessed was the beginning of a curse word, and asked, “did that beast do that to you?”

He turned his gaze to his now bared arms. At the edges on the inside of his forearms where his bracers had been, the red angry lines from claws were more visibly in view.

“Yes, the cat was scared when I fell into the stream,” he explained.

“When you…? Never mind. I got, uh, band aids, somewhere.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he wasn’t bleeding, not anymore, “but if you have antiseptic, I would appreciate it.”

“Right, I’ll see what there is,” he said and ducked away as Sportacus reached behind his neck to unzip the shirt. Letting the second revelation, that the villain _did_ care, settle in.

Fleeting as it may be, it was nice. And it warmed him up a little on its own.

 

* * *

 

Brandishing some cotton swabs and the small flask he announced his findings as he rounded the tractor, “you’re lucky, I didn’t throw this away, now-” Robbie thought he was going to bite off the tip of his tongue and swallow it. “Sweet mother of-!” he sputtered, “I thought you would just- Gah!”

Discarded articles hung up and laid over wherever the man saw fit, the offender looked up towards him, curls of damp caramel hanging over his forehead above blue questioning eyes. Shirtless, barefoot and in the middle of the process of peeling off his pants. So far just above his knees.

Robbie would need _a moment_.

He’d thought what exactly? Sportacus had reasoned and forewarned him that he needed to remove the wet articles. And, yes, he had found it hard to tear his eyes off him when he’d initially started. Surprising him with the sheer amount of unruly hair he’d crammed under the blue cap.

But higher powers above he hadn’t been ready regardless.

With no exaggeration, the blasted elf was drenched through _every_ article of clothing he had.

_Why did his underwear have to be white?!_

Life was a bad porno and he was not invited.

“Robbie?”

“Uh, nothing, nothing, I wasn’t… _Here!_ ” He thrust the bottle in a jerky motion in his general direction.

He gave him a thanks and a wide smile that surely couldn’t be genuine as he took it from him and set it aside.

“Uhu…” He tried to clear his throat. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled.

 

That was an alarmingly growing puddle. How much water could one pair of track pants contains?!

Close to as much as had been in the boots, apparently.

“What’s up there, in the loft?” Sportacus asked offhandedly, blissfully ignorant of the personal hell Robbie was going through, having taken up his spot by the back, a safe distance away. ‘ _Down, boy_.’ He should’ve kept the saggy coveralls on. Maybe he could throw them at the hero and tell him to cover up.

“Uhh,” he scratched his chin, trying to remember what had been haphazardly tossed up there over the edge, “hay bales, ropes, stable blankets, random tools… A pitchfork, maybe.”

“Blankets... Could I… Wait? _Pitchfork?_ ”

“Got to keep it real.”

“Robbie, why do you have all this equipment? I thought you were into technical engineering? Not farming.”

So he’d noticed that, had he? “It was for the character,” he admitted. He had just enough casual knowledge about most roles he took on in order to pull off the persona without suspicion for a short while.

“You set this all up for _one_ plan?”

“In case the noisy kids came in here for inspection,” he said and finished with a shrug. It had never come to that. The ploy had belly flopped in record time and the kids had gotten cleverer with the years.

Too bad, he supposed it would’ve been… Fun, to show off what he’d put together.

Ah well, if he’d ever amount to anything it would be that he’d forever made them wary and distrustful of strangers. Whether that was good or not was up for debate.

Something unreadable crossed the other’s features and Robbie almost forgot that he had a near naked elf in nothing but his, and he was using that description loosely, smallclothes. “You put a lot of thought into this. The outfit and machines would’ve been enough… Did you want them to come over here?”

‘ _Abort, abort!_ ’ “You’re noise maker hasn’t gone off yet, I would’ve thought it would’ve by now,” he said in a desperate attempt to change the topic.

“Ah,” Sportacus stopped wringing water out of his track pants, “no, hopefully it won’t until much later,” he stated. “Do you think I could… Perhaps borrow one of those blankets?”

Robbie gestured to the ladder. “Knock yourself out.”

 

Grabbing the first aid articles on the way, it did not escape him that Sportacus also took the crystal casing with him, the elf had not lost _all_ sense then. Robbie sure knew he was. When he saw him disappear up, and the moment he did so Robbie’s careful mask fell and he hid his face behind his hands to stifle a groan.

Yeah, _that_ was going to be imprinted into his brain for the rest of his life. Naked dripping wet Sportahot. He’d seen almost every inch of him, there was no going back from there.

He’d had fantasies, of various degree, and what he’d imagined didn’t hold a candle to the real deal.

There was a thud and low noise of complaint.

“When I said knock yourself out, I was not literal, you know. And if you insist, please do that elsewhere.”

No reply.

Maybe he had knocked himself out?

“Are you still there?”

“Oh? Yes, I was thinking…”

That was never a good sign.

 

Definitely _not_ a good sign

 

“I haven’t slept in a hay loft since I was a kid.”

“That would explain why you look so excited,” Robbie said accusatively, peering up from the ladder. “And I said that you could stay here, _not sleep over!_ ”

He ignored his protest as he snapped the twine with his bare hands like it was nothing, a blanket wrapped around his waist and Robbie did not dare ask if he still wore his underwear beneath it. Gathering and fluffing the straws into a sizeable pile where he deemed it a safe distance from the edge of the loft, before throwing a couple of the other blankets over it.

“That’s nice and all, but where do you expect me to sleep if you’re hogging all the straws?”

“I, uh, I thought we could share?”

His jaw dropped, before he had the sense to snap it shut and shake his head. “Oh, ha ha, very funny. You had me there for a second. I’ll be down in the driver’s seat until you decide to grace me with your absence.”

“Robbie…”

“Nope,” he said and was already starting to back down the wooden rungs.

“Robbie, it’s late and you should sleep as well. A good night’s rest is very important.”

Late for the elf maybe. “I would get nice rest if you didn’t insist on flippity flopping everywhere and make everyone around you noisy and… Stuff.”

“You can’t sleep in the tractor,” he said matter of factly, like he was addressing a child.

“It’s, it’s a matter of principle. I can sleep _anywhere_. Just watch me!”

“Anywhere, but _here?_ ” He cocked a brow and crossed his arms. “Are you afraid something would happen?” There was a strange undertone to the words that Robbie didn’t appreciate.

He watched the arms over the muscular chest and trailed down before he caught himself. ‘ _Yes_ ,’ he thought. “I… _No_.”

Robbie had somehow gotten stuck in a trap, he felt like, and with no win scenario for him. Either way he’d loose the argument.

With an air of faux nonchalance he marched, well, somewhat doubled over due to the rafters, over to the handiwork and flopped down. He sneezed at the cloud of particles and straws.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Sportacus hummed in humour and sat down next to him, far more mindful than Robbie had been, wrapping the last of the blankets over his shoulders and started dabbing the scratches on his arms with the saturated cotton swabs.

“Stay on your side of the hay.”

“Okay, Robbie.”

Great, the only one here making it weird was Robbie himself.

“You’re awfully lax, considering your flying death-trap is unmanned in the middle of a rain storm,” he pointed out with a huff as he took back the flask held out for him, not sure what to do with it and simply threw it to the side, to watch it roll over the edge and hit the stone floor out of sight far below, though no sound of breaking glass.

“Loftskip will be fine. There is only a small chance of something happening, and I know where _you_ are right now,” he answered lackadaisically before a wide yawn.

Yes, because the only real danger to it was sitting here with him, thanks for the acknowledgement. Robbie tried to fight back the reflex to mirror the yawn and failed. “Well, and here’s a small chance then that my home _won_ _’t_ be flooded,” he said.

“What? Oh no, Robbie.” Sportacus turned to him and sat up ramrod straight alongside him.

He waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll deal with it later.” Removing the water wasn’t the real issue. Airing out the damp was a right _nightmare_.

_His poor armchair._

Sportacus let out a heavy sigh and pulled the blanket around himself, he remained quiet for a while until he finally spoke again, “when I have to go out again. I could always check up on your place, if you’d like.”

“Not _if_ you have to go? That _thing_ has been awfully quiet this far.”

“There might be others that’ll get caught out there. And we’ve tried to secure the town and risk areas… But, there’s bound to be flooding. And people that’ll need help in the aftermath.”

Sounded like the voice of experience.

In lack of a better response he opted for a neutral grunt.

“…You could invite the kids over here later.”

He was confused for a second of what he meant until he remembered their earlier conversation. “No, the novelty has worn off.” The place was scheduled to be taken apart and returned to the shop he had hired to set it up in the first place anyway.

He looked over at the man wrapped up in the coarse material of the blanket. Hell, Robbie’s obsession with him was probably the only reason some of these niche businesses hadn’t gone bust, in turn driving Robbie closer to the brink of personal bankruptcy.

Couldn’t live with him, could _clearly_ not live without him.

 

With a sigh of defeat, he took off his waistcoat and removed his belt, and that was where he personally drew the line and laid down. Only to look up to see Sportacus watching him.

“What?”

The man merely shook his head and untangled himself from the blanket to throw over them both. Robbie was to protest but still not saying another word the hero turned to lie on his side, away from him.

Ok… Okay then…?

“Last time I fell asleep in your proximity, I woke up falling down a wall.” Damn, why hadn’t he thought of that argument earlier?

He could swear he heard the elf laugh under his breath at that, he could see his frame jostle as if he was.

 

Several minutes, maybe a full hour had passed, and he was still staring into the ceiling.

Being already sensitive to outer stimuli, as lets say, tons of water hitting tin-plates and reverberating the noise to a deafening level in a spring shower that’s taken on biblical proportions, there was also another living breathing being of _certain_ identity he was sharing a bedding with.

There was no way on this sickeningly green earth that he’d be able to sleep.

He turned his gaze and instead watched the outline of his… His enemy. ‘ _Not for you,_ ’ went on repeat, louder and more frenetic each time, in his mind. Sleeping on his side, facing away from him. Close enough to touch.

“Hey, you awake?” he asked in a low voice, just enough to get heard over the awful noise.

No reply, let alone a reaction.

He bit his lip. This was a bad idea. A _horrible_ idea.

Slowly, he settled onto his side and shimmied closer. He could always claim that he’d been asleep and grabbed onto the first warm solid thing.

He was warm, and surprisingly soft.

It seemed like it had worked, for a short moment, then it blew up in his face.

“Robbie?”

_Crap!_

“I was cold and you’re hogging the blankets!” he sputtered and tried to draw back.

A hand gripped his wrist, the one that had snuck around his middle, not hard, but firm enough that Robbie couldn’t escape as Sportacus turned to face him. Features cast in shadows from the low light filtering from the lower level.

Best case scenario, he was going to get the scolding of a lifetime, worst case, a black eye. The elf being a pacifist notwithstanding.

Robbie’s mouth kept opening and closing, trying to come up with something to say, _anything_.

“You could’ve asked,” he said in a low voice.

“I,” he stuttered. “ _I can_ _’t_ ,” he managed to force out and it sounded pitiful.

Yes, hello, I’m your sworn nemesis, I would like a hug? _A snuggle per chance?_

Sportacus remained quiet and looked up at him. Then, using his hold on him as leverage, he pulled closer. “Then I will.” Breath hot against his face. “May I?”

Not one hundred percent sure if he was fully understanding what the other was initiating, but hoping, he gave a small nod.

A flash of blue before he closed his eyes and felt thin lips on his own, he had enough instinct to tilt his head into a better angle.

With a sigh, he drew back, just enough to murmur, “is this what you-?”

Robbie didn’t let him finish the question and closed the distance. Sportacus hummed and kissed him back, hard, enough to force his way inside.

He didn’t taste anything in particular, he’d always imagined that there’d be a hint of the apples he always ate and was discarding all over the place. There was none of that. But he was hot and wet and when his tongue did _that_ it sent thrills of arousal through him. Letting go of his arm, Sportacus nudged and guided him closer and somehow Robbie found himself on top of the other. He felt himself swell and harden, and judging by how the elf slanted his hips and drew one leg up to fit him better against him, he wasn’t alone.

Robbie let palm the firm thigh and followed it up in under the fabric -and feeling nothing but the hot smooth skin of his hip. “Where the hell’s your underwear?” he demanded as he pulled up.

Sportacus threw his head back and laughed.

He scowled, feeling stupid.

The laughter trickled out into an amused hum. “You could level the playing field,” he suggested, and Robbie felt a tug at the back of his collar. The zipper of his shirt.

“One more sports-related word and I’m out of here.” An empty threat. It was all the permission the man needed though, and he felt shortly after cold air hit his exposed neck and between his shoulder blades, a stark contrast to the calloused hand that dipped in under to explore.

He kissed the other’s jawline, the dip of his clavicle and his sternum before he sat up on his knees to unzip the fly to his too tight dress pants so he could pull them down as far as possible before he wrangled the shirt off as well. He was about to remove his tenting underwear when he saw that Sportacus had started to undo the wrap around his waist.

And that’s when it hit him full force what they were doing.

Eyes dark, chest rising and falling a little too fast, hands fumbling with the folds.

They’re going to have sex. _H_ e is going to have _sex_ with _Sportacus!_

Watching Robbie watching him, as he removed the blanket and Robbie had first row to a thick really, _really_ , nice dick and he was dumbfounded at the now full naked display before him. By visual alone, head to toe, he’s _perfect_.

His own hands were still gripping the elastic waistband of his boxers when he heard his own too hoarse voice blurt out, “ _you_ _’re gorgeous_.”

Sportacus froze like a deer in the headlight, head snapping up.

The one time he seem to have caught the hero off guard and it’s _now?!_

He blinked, once, twice, before he seemed to shake off the effect and sat up, enough to be level with Robbie’s navel and kissed his stomach, murmuring something against his skin and dark hair he couldn’t quite catch over the noise of pouring rain, and removed Robbie’s hands to slip his fingers under the elastics and nip at his hipbone, making his breath hitch.

Well, this might as well happen, and he found himself card a hand through Sportacus’ hair and noted that one of the pointed ears twitched when he got stuck on knots. With that fleeting odd notion his underwear got pulled down to join the rest of the bunched up material. His aching erection freed, and he felt a little smug when he found Sportacus staring at his own length. It lasted for about five seconds, before he pounced to drag him back down, making Robbie noise an alarmed, ‘ _nyuip!_ _’_ in response, flailing like a windmill as he went down.

Robbie may be taller, but Sportacus was broader and there was hot skin on skin this time. He’d never known he had it in him, he’d _definitely_ never known that Sportacus had it in him, to be like this, to be this desperate and consumed. Not how he’d imagined it, for crying out loud he still had his clothes around his ankles and shoes on, but there was no room to pause. Not when they were chasing their pleasure like this, and Robbie could barely keep up with himself as it was.

No finesse and their movements rough, eliciting guttural noises he’d otherwise would be embarrassed about.

Robbie found purchase to rock against him, both eased and egged on by Sportacus drawing his knees up again and the bruising grip on his ass and back. Accidentally knocking their foreheads when trying to kiss and bite. Until he reached the tipping point of the pressure and hid his face out of view to bury it against the makeshift bedding, registering Sportacus tucking his own face in against his collarbone under him as he came with every good feeling he knew in the world distilled in his groan, pumping out of him and making it slick.

And then it was over, for him.

Because Sportacus was still scrabbling for purchase, trying to find release of his own, muttering garble he couldn’t understand but sounded a whole lot like pleading.

He should do something, but he’d spent what little reserves he’d had to begin with, so he moved up to settle half on his side and put a thigh between to let the man ride against it.

It was not enough and with a desperate noise he grabbed Robbie’s hand to take hold of his weeping cock, warm, solid, and slippery from precum and Robbie’s own orgasm. Feeling clumsy, the grip wasn’t the best from the angle, nor it being his dominant hand, Sportacus didn’t let him switch however, but put his own hand over his to create the pressure needed and guide the speed as his hips jerked to meet their fists. He couldn’t help but stare, the man was _gone_ , completely engulfed in the chase.

He came without a sound, eyes closed and brow knit, his mouth seeming caught on a silent vowel.

The elf didn’t open his eyes until Robbie kissed the corner of his mouth and startled at the contact. Seeming somehow to have forgotten that this wasn’t a solo performance, before his mouth stretched into a wide smile and tilted his head up to kiss Robbie again, all while letting go of their joint sticky hands to blindly dry them off with a blanket Robbie wouldn’t be able to return, or the other’s they’d ruined, or the hay. Or Robbie’s sanity for that matter.

 

He was wide awake once again, listening to the deafening noise of water hitting the tin-plates.

Somehow, he felt like he’s been run over by a truck, and yet, like he'd won the lottery at the same time. Same serial number on both.

Robbie flattened out his hand against Sportacus’ stomach, his ill-gotten prize, and pulled him a little tighter. Sportacus, in turn, sighed in his sleep and it was such an insult how perfect he fit against Robbie as he held him. He nosed the darker hair of his nape before he looked past his shoulder -and saw the crystal casing just within arm’s reach.

 

* * *

 

He’s not sure what woke him up, but there are a couple of strong candidates. It doesn’t sound like the downpour has let up and the air is chill outside of the covers with the creaking of wood from gusts of wind. Any of those or a combination might’ve been what disturbed him, he reasoned in his sleep addled mind. Last thing he could remember was falling asleep in Robbie’s arms, which had felt nice, secure even. There were no warm arms around him, or chest pressed against his back this time however.

He rolled over to reach after Robbie, wanting the contact and comfort again. No gangly self-proclaimed villains anywhere he put his hand and he cracked open his eyes to find that he was alone in the bedding. The empty space was still warm, though. Frowning, he sat up to look around himself, to discover a second thing; the crystal was missing. Casing and all.

Sportacus was wide awake now. Feeling a spike of adrenaline course through him, he was up onto his feet instantly, nearly hitting his head on a wooden beam again, and looked over the edge of the loft.

 

There, below him.

 

The man was in his boxers again and his back turned to him, standing by the working bench and holding something in his hands. He had a strong suspicion of what he was witnessing. The adrenaline warped into something bitter.

 

He climbed down as silently as he could and approached him. “Robbie Rotten,” he said sternly. More harshly than usual, but it was _different_ this time, it felt like it should be so anyway. He was angry that Robbie was that quick to seize the opportunity, but, he was more angry at himself for somehow thinking that he wouldn’t. Disappointed, yes, that’s what he felt towards him instead.

The close proximity and tone had Robbie jolt and whip around in surprise, and Sportacus was right, he _is_ holding the crystal. Casing in one hand and the exposed opaque stone in the other.

“It’s not, it’s not what it looks like,” he sputtered, then croaked when his eyes looked over his form to find him still naked, flicking up to his eyes and flinching at the glare. “It’s not better, but it’s not what it looks like,” he repeated, looking anywhere but at him.

“What were you doing with my crystal?”

“I wasn’t going to steal it.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, because this should be interesting to hear him try to explain himself out of.

“Okay, so, uhm,” he took a shaky breath and continued, “you were asleep, and it was nice, perfect, and I am selfish.” Staring down at his hands holding the misappropriated goods, he continued, his words jumbled, “I ruin things. Especially for myself. You… I wanted more time with you, but your stupid crystal will go off any second because this town is full of other idiots, or cats, or something will break as usual… I was going to put it away down here so that it wouldn’t. You’d, you’d find it again in the morning…”

Sportacus breathed deep through his nose, a wave of mixed feelings coming over him. Robbie’s interpretation of stealing being described as loose at best aside, he’s right in the earlier statement; it’s certainly not better. There’s also the admission of Robbie’s feelings, also of a place of selfishness.

At Sportacus’ silence, he mumbled, “better ask forgiveness than permission.” And slid the crystal back into the slot with a resolute ‘ _klick_ ’ and held it out back to him.

“That’s not how it works,” he said and took it in hand.

“Don’t you think I know that?!” he barked and finally looked to meet his eyes, blotches of red blooming over his cheeks. His lanky frame shook and chest heaved.

“What you did was selfish,” he stated, “and dangerous. If someone was in deep trouble and needed me-”

“I _am_ selfish. I’m the _villain_ , it comes with the terms and conditions. But, but _this_ ,” he gesticulated between them, “this doesn’t.”

“What?”

“I, I… Why is it always breakneck speed with you? I just, I wanted to hold you, nothing more, and you kissed me, so I kissed back and then you, we… We’re not supposed to. _I_ _’m_ not supposed to.” Robbie’s shoulders were up by his ears by now and clutching his hands up against his chest.

“Robbie, breathe,” he tried to soothe, before the man would work himself into hysterics. “I thought this, earlier, was what you wanted too.” It didn’t take more than lust for sex, for some, it didn’t even need to barely tolerate one another, but he did like Robbie, and the way Robbie… He had been pretty sure of it, with how fast and hard he had kissed him back. The sheer _hunger_ in his usually pale eyes when he’d watched him, the reverence in his voice that had rendered he himself momentarily speechless.

The laugh was bitter. “If I didn’t, then I wouldn’t be down here screwing myself over because I wanted a couple of more hours with you.”

Oh. He looked down at the crystal casing in his hand. He had a decision to make, he felt like. “Okay,” he exhaled, “I forgive you.” At the end of the day, he wasn’t an argumentative person, and he could only hope that Robbie wouldn’t take the olive branch and whack him over the head with it, or abuse his affection.

“Figur-” he cut himself off. “Wait, what?”

“I forgive you, for taking the crystal, but don’t do that again,” he clarified. He chanced to step closer and touch the other’s exposed side, he flinched at the contact initially but stilled soon enough to look down at him with too wide eyes. “Robbie, I like you.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“You’re clever, handsome,” Sportacus started, “and despite everything, I know,” he hoped so anyway, “that you’re kind.”

Robbie snorted and shook his head, but there was a small fond smile on his face. “You have a really bad sense of self-preservation. Then again, your hobby of free-jumping out of an airship one thousand feet above sea level should’ve been a tipoff.” Arms that he’d drawn up relaxed down to wrap around Sportacus’ shoulders.

Sportacus chuckled and kissed his collar bone he now had access to. “Takes one to know one.”

“Ouch,” he said then dipped down to press his lips against his temple.

They stayed like that for a while, breathing and calming down, trying to anyway.

“I want you to come up and lie next to me,” Sportacus said eventually.

“For as long as _that_ will last,” he said. “And if someone’s in trouble?” The tone above him was sombre and he felt it rumble against him.

“Then I will get dressed, go out to help whoever needs me, and then, if you want, I’ll return here.”

“What if I’m not here anymore?”

“You don’t think you will?” he asked, trying to decipher the words.

Robbie’s voice was small. “…I don’t know.”

“Even if it’s still terrible outside?”

He didn’t reply, and that was answer enough.

The man is as precarious as they come, it’ll either set off his rebellious streak, or an anxious reaction at the face of consequences, let alone expectations.

 

‘ _That thing has gone feral. Not enough human contact, I guess._ ’

 

He leaned back to look into his face. “If I made you promise to stay put, you’ll flee.”

“Like a bat out of hell.”

He appreciated the rare honesty. “Then I won’t make you.”

“But you won’t like it.”

“No, but I woke up and thought you’d taken first best opportunity to steal my crystal, it takes more to beat that.”

“Sugar apples?”

“Yes, that would probably do it.”

“Noted,” he said and went quiet again. Until he slouched with a sigh. “Aren’t you cold? You’re buck naked.” A hand dragged down over his back and stopped just over the curve of his ass.

“I did ask you to come back up with me,” he replied and pressed up against him, the other man wasn't that much better off with his boxers.

“Thought it was an invite for another roll in the literal hay.”

“That’s-” Sportacus laughed, “we _did_.” He sobered up to add, “do you want to?” He was a little more clearheaded this time, wanting to make sure and not make assumptions.

Robbie’s hand went lower, confirming his intentions, physically anyway, Sportacus still needed to hear it from him, though. “If I get to set the pace. It’s not… It shouldn’t be a freakin’ marathon.”

That’s fair. He could try. “So,” he started, smiling, “what’s your pace?”

Robbie didn’t reply by words, instead he let go of him to cup his face and give him a slow open mouthed kiss. There was something surprisingly tender in it.

He blinked, feeling a little dazed. “You’re a romantic.” He’d meant to tease, but it came out like a statement.

“You take that back… But, maybe, a little,” he replied and dipped back down.

Humming into it, he pushed upwards to meet his mouth.

“Touch me?”

Sportacus took one step, holding his attention with his eyes and a deliberate motion, he sat the casing down on the bench behind them, to free both his hands and demonstrate _something_. Not quite a full show of trust, not a warning either. A statement. He _wants_ to trust Robbie, but they’re not quite there yet. Because Robbie doesn’t fully trust him either, the villain doesn’t trust anyone, not yet. Sportacus is going to have to work on that. Now, what he could do was put his hands on him and he was personally going to savour it as well.

He flattened his hands out to drag them down along his sides and dug his thumbs in, just enough, receiving a groan from Robbie. Good.

The stonework was cold and harsh against his naked knees as he sank, kissing his way down.

“Do you want me to slow down?” He was in perfect level with his groin, running his hands up and down long shapely legs. He wanted this. He wanted Robbie to want this too.

“No, don’t.”

He pulled Robbie’s member free. More than half hard and quickly firming as he slowly pumped it, exposing the flushed head with the motion, his own dick twitching between his kneeling legs and aching to be touched. Robbie gasped above him when he kissed the underside.

Looking up, he saw that hungry unguarded expression on the other’s face as he took him between his lips, squeezing the base, and then began sucking and moving his head, matching his hand. He released his hand to hold his hips and tried to ready himself, and swallowed him down.

Robbie made a strangled noise and there was a fist in his hair suddenly, hard enough to hurt. If it had been meant to deter him, it had the opposite effect and he kept sucking, working him over.

Until his hips jerked forward, hitting a little too hard and he gagged, and had to pull off to cough and wipe his mouth. He’d barely let go of Robbie when he sagged down and Sportacus had just enough time to catch him from hitting his knees on the floor and steady him to straddle his lap. “You’re the death of me,” he gasped and pressed their foreheads together in an awkward angle no thanks to the further exaggerated height difference.

Sportacus’ voice cracked and he cleared his throat before he tried to ask again. “Are you okay?”

He sounded a throaty laugh. “Am I okay? How can you even…? Yes.”

Sportacus hummed, which turned into a moan when Robbie shifted and rocked against him, giving him friction that wasn’t even close to what he needed.

He gave him a dirty kiss and said, “I think I’m ready to take this upstairs.”

“Good, the floor is cold,” he rasped.

Whatever reply Robbie had in waiting, it turned into a choked outcry in surprise as he grabbed him under the curve of his ass and around his middle to stand up in one fluid motion, to set him down on his feet and pull him towards the ladder, gesturing for him to climb before him.

“These were not made for people,” Robbie grumbled, trying to climb with dignity, he himself couldn’t really complain, not with the lost battle with the rope ladder from earlier, and certainly not with that view.

It was an even nicer view when he came up shortly after to see Robbie waiting for him, looking languid and for the taking, and finding that it took all his willpower not to jump him... Again. He settled for a compromise to crawl over him slowly to straddle him, taking them both in hand and rock his hips, with Robbie’s hands holding him to pull him a little further, a little faster against him.

“Come here,” the man managed between breaths and tried to scoot down until he was over his chest instead. Sportacus steadied and gripped into the edge of the blanket above Robbie’s shoulder with one hand and buried the other in his short hair that had since long ago come loose in curly messy strands. He jerked him off as he swirled his tongue around the head and sucked, and he closed his eyes to loose himself in the tight wet heat and the feeling of his lower abdominal muscles and groin tightening seconds before he tipped over, breath caught in his throat.

When he opened his eyes again it was to the sight of a red-faced Robbie coming with a cry between clenched teeth, jacking himself off, pressing the back of his skull down into the bedding and with spit and semen dribbling down his chin.

It was an image he knew would be imprinted on his mind, and happy about it, as he gathered the spent man into his arms, not caring that they were getting cold and that they were filthy. Cupping the back of Robbie’s head to bring him into a slow deep kiss, tasting himself on his slick lips.

So much for setting a pace.

 

Despite the lack of natural light, his inner clock told him that is was early morning when the crystal did chirp and casing flash.

“No,” Robbie growled and wound all limbs around him in an attempt to hold him down.

“Robbie, let go.”

“ _No_.” And wound tighter around him.

He freed himself and the man flopped reluctantly back down. “It’s close by,” he told him and reached for his clothes he’d let collect and bring up to air dry by the rafters.

“It better,” he grumbled and Sportacus took a good look at him before he rose. Hair a mess with straws of hay in it, long limbed and warm. He’d have to be quick out there, with a very foreign feeling of for once wanting to stay in bed.

 

The articles were still cold and damp, and putting them on was _unpleasant_ , to say the least.

“Can you help me?” he asked and pointed to the zipper behind his back.

He heard rustling behind him and hot breath against his ear. “Only if I get to be the one who unzips it later.”

Sportacus gave him a positive.

 

Turned out he needn’t have to bother putting himself through that.

 

It was still a compact wall of grey and icy water, and the wind had picked up somewhat since last. He’d barely opened the door when something zoomed in between his feet, and he let out a yelp in surprise. He noted that his crystal ceased in the same moment. It had been close by indeed.

“What was that?” came from the loft.

“We have company,” he declared.

“We _what?!_ ” the villain’s voice squawked. “I swear, if it’s a rat!”

Sportacus went to squat down and look under where he’d seen the animal disappear to. Their new companion peered from under the tractor, yellow eyes dilated, ears tucked back and tail curled around itself. “It’s the cat.”

“You’re kidding me,” Robbie said and came within view.

The cat let out a low guttural yowl and Sportacus backed off.

“Great, two whiskered menaces.”

He tilted his head upwards to see Robbie sporting an expression matching an agitated tomcat he himself and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the display. 

 

* * *

 

“Ugh, come on, dry you stupid piece of…” Robbie complained and wielded the blow-dryer over the damp faux fur. He’d been right, his bunker had flooded, along with other nasty stuff, while the Lazytowners had been snug in warm toasty, and very dry, homes during the foul weather earlier. Now the sun was beating down to make up for lost time it seemed and the hero was back to running all over the place, fixing and helping everyone and whatnot. Except for Robbie, who’d alone had to bring the soaked piece of furniture up to the surface behind the billboard, not that he’d asked for help. After the _incident_ a couple of nights ago, he needed some space and _me_ _time_ , which translated into pacing and biting down on his knuckles, not sure what on earth was going on anymore, nor if he liked it or not.

The respite with the mind-numbing task in solitude could only last for so long however.

“Hi, Robbie!”

He shrieked and blasted the blow-dryer in Sportacus’ face when he snuck up on him in pure self-preservation, whilst the hero merely laughed and ducked away to bounce up on his other side like some kind up _pop goes the blue elf_.

“Don’t do that!”

“Do what?” he asked and blinked up at him, perfect picture of innocence. He noted that the scratches were all healed up without so much of a trace of ever being there so soon after.

“You know what I mean,” he argued, waving the device around. The man only stared with a small lopsided smile, exaggerated by the moustache and Robbie groaned. “Never mind,” he muttered, then said louder, towards the armchair, “I give up.” And threw the blow-dryer to bounce and settle in the orange faux fur.

“It looks alright,” he said.

Robbie chuckled humourlessly. “Put your hand on the seat and push down.”

He did as instructed, made a face that had Robbie laugh for real, and pulled away to dry his hand off on his thigh.

“Not anything else I can do, but leave it outside... And hope it doesn’t rain again anytime soon.”

The man hummed in agreement, then turned to him again. “I went by the outskirts… Where’s the barn?”

The temporary installation was gone with only a large square area of upturned dirt where the foundation had been, and with an angry landowner that could prove absolutely zilch that it was Robbie’s fault.

“Disassembled,” he answered.

“Ah.”

They remained quiet, Sportacus was bouncing on the balls of his feet, something clearly on his mind. Probably some comment that they should move on and forget about the whole thing.

He didn’t want to hear it and opened his mouth to say something about going back down his lair, anything but this. This was why he never asked for assistance, or permission, because then he’d never have to hear the inevitable rejection.

“So, uhm,” Sportacus clasped the back of his neck in a sign of uneasiness as he spoke, “I was wondering if you had any plans later today.”

Robbie could hear the record scratch in his head and his chest tighten. “Careful, that sounds like you’re…” He left the sentence hanging between them, before he gathered his courage and finished, “asking me out?”

“I am. If you want to.”

He was feeling lightheaded. “I might have to… Have to reschedule some things.”

“Such as?” He looked hopeful and came closer.

“Stuff, things, lazy ideas.”

“You’re planning on causing trouble.” Not a question.

“Unless something better turns up. And, you’re probably going to have to flip flop over to help some old lady with a bad hip falling into a ditch,” he said with a measured shrug.

“Something better?” Avoiding the subject that his time and attention was, at an always, divided, Sportacus snaked an arm around the small of his back.

He really should’ve seen this coming the moment he sidled up closer. “The, the day’s still young.”

“It’s five in the afternoon.”

And the hero’s bedtime is in about three hours, give or take, depending on what the elf has in mind. “Very young.”

He pulled him flush against him. “See it as incentive to behave,” he suggested.

“Bribery? I can, ah, I can work with that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are the best ❤️ (No really, I'm a **very** feedback driven person)  
> -
> 
> This might turn into a part of a "popular trope" sportarobbie series with different ratings from fic to fic and suggestions are welcome.


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